


you're my guiding light

by gryffind0rk



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran (Music Video), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/M, sweeran - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffind0rk/pseuds/gryffind0rk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not sure when it happens, but it does. // of trampolines, tours, and (un)sung words</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during the RED era, ergo this has been sitting in my computer for the longest time. I never got the chance to share it and this may be too late, but better late than never. I hope you like it.

_we are surrounded by all of these lights_

…

 (He first meets her at a hotel room.)

 

It’s a hot Arizona day when he first holds out his hand to shake hers, and when she does, she also goes in for a tight hug.

 

He doesn’t like doing this at first, but he finds he doesn’t totally mind the hug, which warms him up despite the hot weather.

 

They sit on the floor, their guitars to the side; and a couple of minutes later, he finds he’s genuinely enjoying himself. She’s made him laugh three times now, two of which were stories told with such animation that he felt he was a part of it.

 

He figures that’s what her fans see in her music—her ability to tell stories through her words, but soon after discovers she’s a lot more that just words.

 

She’s carefully plucked strings on a guitar. She’s a sweet, nearly intoxicating voice with such emotion that you can’t help but listen to every word she says.

 

She smiles sheepishly when she finishes the song. “So, yeah, that was _Last Kiss_.”

 

“It was …” He doesn’t know what to say so he settles for, “I can’t describe it well enough to do it justice.”

 

Despite the lack of a decent comment, she lights up. “Thanks, Ed.”

 

She hands him his guitar and he reads her expression as an expectation of a song in return. For some reason, he starts to play the chords to Lego House.

_“And it’s dark in the cold December, but I’ve got you to keep me warm…”_

 

She starts to harmonize the chorus quietly, and he leans in to hear her better.

 

(He nearly stops singing because he likes the way his words sound coming from her.)

 

When the song ends, she claps, her smile contagious to him, and he notices the way her eyes seem bluer whenever she smiled.

 

Hours pass as they go back and forth, playing their own songs and their favorite songs and songs they liked as kids and songs that get stuck in their head easily until it’s 4am and he feels like he’s known her 12 years instead of 12 hours.

 

They’re saying goodbye when she tells him that they should really collaborate, and he genuinely means it when he tells her it would be an honour.

 

(The next hug isn’t awkward at all.)

* * *

 

He can’t really remember how much time passed before he sees her again, but she invites him over this time.

 

He pays no attention to the tabloids speculating on their relationship—though, he can’t help but be flattered that people think they could be romantically involved—and pays attention to the fact that she quickly becomes someone he wishes he knew better.

 

She opens the door and hugs him again, which he’s prepared for this time. He wonders for a moment if the ice had to be broken a second time now, when instead of a ‘Hello’, she says, “I just got a new trampoline, do you wanna see it?”

 

(He decides he wants to keep her in his life.)

 

They’re jumping like 8 year olds on the trampoline, laughing until their faces turn pink when Taylor suddenly stops, starts humming, and runs inside to pick up her guitar.

 

He sees her on the floor of her kitchen, and takes a seat beside her when she scribbles down chords and some lyrics on a napkin.

 

It’s fascinating, seeing a song being written by Taylor—the chords slowly coaxing the words that seem to make sense; her fingers instinctively playing the right strings, the guitar obeying her every silent command; and he stops for a bit to revel in the beauty of the moment.

 

She plays through what she’s written, when the music stops, her fingers itching to continue playing a song she hasn’t fully figured out yet. He sees the look on her face, takes his guitar and plays the chords she’s written, singing the words to himself.

 

“Ugh, I don’t know what to do for the pre-chorus …” She sighs.

 

She’s so deep in thought that she doesn’t see the look he’s giving her as he strums chords and sings, _“I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now…”_

 

Her eyes light up at the words as she starts harmonizing. The chorus comes, and she throws in, _“All I know is you said hello…”_

He smiles back, continuing to strum, _“And your eyes look like coming home…”_

She ponders it before singing, “ _All I know is a simple name,_ um…”

 

She writes down the lyrics they’ve got while thinking of the next line.

 

_“Everything has changed.”_ He whispers to himself.

 

She looks at him, her eyes lighting up as her smile reaches them. “Looks like this is a duet now.”

 

…

 

They finish the song on the trampoline in a few hours, and record it on both of their phones. They think they can probably do it in a few tries, but it takes a while for them to compose themselves after Ed messes up _blue_ with _boob_.

 

Eventually, on their 13th try, they manage to sing it fully, and it sits in their phones, waiting until they both could record it in the studio.

 

“I told you the number 13 was lucky,” Taylor smiles cheekily.

* * *

 

 

They’re both busy people—her, going around promoting her album, preparing for the tour; him, busy finishing up some songs to be recorded and put on his new album.

 

They manage to catch up when she has some time free from promoting. They’re having a cup of coffee when she asks him.

 

“I was wondering something.”

 

“Shoot,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee that turned cold long ago.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like to tour with me. For the next few months, around North America. It’d be a really good opportunity to play everywhere and see everything, and well, I’m thinking it could be really fun.” She manages to fit within one breath.

 

He laughs a bit, wanting to say yes, but figures he should talk to Stuart before committing so quickly. “I’d love to, I’ll let you know.”

 

The next day, the plans are finalized—although his album would be released a bit later, Stuart agrees that touring for + with Taylor would provide some good press, as well as boost the next album’s sales.

 

He calls her then, and she picks up after the first ring. “Hey, Ed?”

  
“Hey, you still looking for an opening act?”

 

“No,” she says, “I’m looking for a tour buddy.”

 

“Well, I’ll see you on tour … buddy.” He says with a smile.

 

She laughs at him then, and he smiles back, the last line of the song they’d soon perform multiple times playing over and over in his mind.

 

_Everything has changed._


	2. ii

_you look so beautiful in this light_

_…_

It’s the beginning of February, and he’s spent the past few weeks preparing for the tour. It’s nearly a month until they start travelling together, and they’re both looking forward to it.

 

They sit in her dressing room after the awards and Elton John had talked to them both, mostly about music. As he leaves the room, escorted by Taylor’s mom, they both give each other a look as if their heads are exploding from their encounter with a musical legend like him.

 

He sits on the couch, wanting to go back to the hotel to wash up and sleep, while Taylor looks at her award, a look on her face that he can’t quite place.

 

“You okay?” He asks.

 

“Yeah,” she nods, “It’s just that whole … thing with the performance.”

 

He nods in realization. Despite the awards ending only a few hours ago, it seems that the only thing faster than light was gossip—specifically about two of Ed’s closest friends.

 

“After years in the industry, you think you’d be used to it, but …” She sighs.

 

Her hair’s down from its intricate updo, cascading like a waterfall down her shoulders. She plays with it nervously, pulling it to one side, and he’s vaguely reminded of the sun, less yellow but just as brilliant.

 

“Did you wanna talk about anything?” He offers shyly.

 

She smiles softly, shaking her head no. His eyes never leave hers, prompting her to start talking.

 

They’d never talked about their past relationships that much; sure, they were mentioned but never talked about fully—perhaps they hadn’t reached that level of friendship yet, but either way, to them, it didn’t make much sense bringing up old ghosts.

 

It’s his best friend, and it feels kind of awkward hearing someone talk about him like that, but it’s Taylor and not a mean word that he feels is unjustified (coming from one half of a break-up) escapes her lips.

 

She tells him from the start, though she’s not sure why—it wasn’t too deep of a relationship, but it was one of the most buzzed about of hers, so she rarely told anyone anything. In the month or so they dated, he treated her well, made her laugh, everything that a good boyfriend did.

 

Somehow, they ended up splitting—you could do everything right, but still turn out wrong.

 

“It’s whatever, honestly. He’s lovely, and I’m not sure what happened if he got too busy or I wasn’t right for him, and it’s not even him personally, it’s just…” she sighs.

 

There’s a silence as he keeps his eyes on hers, and she tries to find the words.

 

“Sometimes, everything, everyone … it makes me wish I could disappear,” she whispers, only loud enough for hers and Ed’s ears, “I mean, only for a bit, but even then, it sounds like I’m being ungrateful and—”

 

He shushes her by pulling her into a hug, realizing this is the first one he’s initiated. She hugs him back tightly, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

 

“I mean, this industry’s amazing, but it also sucks, I don’t understand why people make things up, and I don’t like letting this get to me, but it is and—”

 

Ed rubs her back steadily, calming her down with whispers of “It’s alright, love” as she breathes deeply, eventually serene.

 

“Look, I know sometimes, it’s hard, but I hope you know that I wouldn’t want you to disappear from my life, even for a bit.” He smiles genuinely, “Like you said, people throw rocks at things that shine, and you’re the most brilliant person I know.”

 

A soft smile graces her face. “Thanks, Ed. I feel better.”

 

“Good,” he smiles back, “because you ramble a lot when you’re upset.”

 

Her smile turns into a laugh, and he’s glad that they’ve made it to that part where they can really talk to each other.

 

…

 

It’s a few hours later, and they’re hanging out at her house.

 

Her dress is long gone, replaced with comfy PJs, and she’s as discomposed as Taylor can be: hair turning up into slight curls at the ends, eyeliner smudged a bit, but still bringing out the intense blue in her eyes.

 

And his mind starts to work, putting words together to chords.

 

“What?” She asks, looking up from her guitar but down at him, sitting on her floor.

 

_your silhouette over me_

_the blue in your eyes_

“Hmm?”

 

“You were just looking at me funny, is something wrong?”

 

“No, no, it’s … your eyes,” he stammers sheepishly, “They remind me of the sea.”

 

_It’s the Tenerife Sea._

 

She chuckles a bit, goes back to her guitar, while he scribbles the words down on a napkin, stuffing it in his pocket for later.

* * *

 

Their friendship from there just grows.

It’s been a couple of months on the tour now, and the shows fade into each other. He likes the rush of people singing his lyrics back at him, and every single day, he’s inspired seeing them, and most of all, seeing her perform.

 

She tells stories, connects with her audience, managing to entertain and captivate them for a few hours.

 

When he’s done playing, he likes to sit in, watching the concert, actually enjoying himself until she calls him up to join her for the duet.

 

Sometimes, he tires of playing it every single night, but they manage to switch it up somehow—joking around, making each other laugh, messing each other up—that it’s still one of his favorite things to perform.

 

He hugs her with both arms, and makes his way to his hotel room, where she meets him after every single show.

 

He’s made friends with the band, the dancers, and every time, they shoot him the same look: during rehearsal with Taylor, when they start laughing together, seeing one go into the other’s room.

 

(He doesn’t pay any attention to them. At least he tries.)

 

This time, he’s working on songs: touching them up, writing new ones, fiddling around with the guitar. He’s not sure how long he’s been doing so, but he hears a knock and her bright voice saying his name.

 

“In here, Tay!”

 

He’s sitting on the bed, paper strewn around it, so she sits on the ground.

 

“Good show today,” he remarks.

 

“Thanks,” she smiles, “I’m glad you played Lego House.”

 

He smiles back, thinking back to when he first played it for her, and wonders if she thinks of it too. It seems ages ago, and he wonders how different things would’ve been had that day not happened.

 

He continues to play through songs, penciling in words, before realizing that she’s fast asleep against the bed. He feels like he should wake her up, but she looks so peaceful that he cleans up and lifts her on his bed. He lays a blanket on her, and is soon fast asleep on the couch across the room.


	3. iii

_Lumière, darling_

_Lumière over me_

_…_

 

He’s not exactly sure when it happens, but it does.

 

(He supposes after singing Everything Has Changed so many times, everything was going to change. Life was funny like that.)

 

Perhaps it started with the song he’d mostly written—though, he tells himself, he strictly used her as a muse, not the subject of the song. Besides, he hadn’t even finished it.

 

Either way, he realizes it on a normal night, in a normal town, when he and Taylor are lying on the bed, watching TV.

 

His side cluttered with burger wrappers and napkins while hers is neat, as she’s sure to not make a mess in his bed, out of consideration, despite the fact that she’s left three sweaters and a scarf in his room over the past week (which he’s made to sure to give back each time she leaves it).

 

The view through the window’s dark, except for the lights of the city, while the TV lights the room. They’re both ready for bed, her in pajamas and him in some sweatpants and a sweater.

 

She easily gets cold so she steals one of Ed’s hoodies, and she goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, the couch ready from the previous night with a pillow and blanket, despite her hotel room being next door.

 

And suddenly, he realizes he could get used to this. He likes how she constantly left her own sweaters but chose his anyways; he likes how laidback this could be, just eating burgers and watching episodes of Law and Order; and he likes having her face be the first one he sees in the morning.

 

She comes back, and flops down on the bed. “One more episode?”

 

…

 

The light hits him, and his eyes slowly open. He’s unsure of the time or when he fell asleep, but he feels like he’s slept better than he’s had in a long while.

 

He feels the warmth of another person beside him, realizing it was Taylor. She hadn’t even made it to the couch.

 

He doesn’t know who fell asleep first or when. But they’re both above the covers, facing each other, her in the foetal position. The light hits her in just the right way, and that’s when he thinks of the word: _lumière._

It’s just so inherently Taylor that he can’t unthink it, and he carefully gets up, putting a blanket over her because he doesn’t wanna see her cold.

 

He finishes the song that day, not really sure when he’s going to let her hear it.

 

(When she wakes up, she notices something brighter about him, but doesn’t stop to ask what.)

 

* * *

 

 

(He keeps the song in his back pocket, not showing anyone before her.)

 

He’s about to play it for her three times, but each time, something stops him.

 

He first thinks about playing it for her the next day after he’s finished, when she comes to hang out after the show.

 

(He doesn’t because he wants to get this right, and he doesn’t know how yet.)

 

…

 

The second, they come back to her place after the ice cream incident.

 

She’d driven him for the ice cream challenge, cheering him on and encouraging him. When he comes back, he lies down on her couch, moaning about how full he was, while she just got him some of his favorite tea to make him feel better.

 

(That time, he falls asleep before he can even get a thank you out, much less a song.)

 

…

 

The third time was the closest he’d gotten.

 

It was the last night of the tour: they’d perform Everything Has Changed for the last time together, and then hang out for a bit before he’d catch a flight home.

 

He wears a cowboy hat because it reminds him of her, and puts a smile on her face.

 

They give it their all, their eyes always managing to find their way back to each other’s and when the last note plays, they hug each other tightly as if they were already saying goodbye.

 

The end of the show is tearful for both of them, but they”re still going through with one last hangout before he goes off to England.

 

His flight’s in a few hours, giving him a couple of hours to spend time with her. He still hasn’t finished packing, so she helps him out, as she does, and soon, the last thing to put back is the guitar.

 

She’s the one to ask if she should put it in its case.

 

“No,” he says, “Leave it out. We can play for each other for the last time.”

 

They sit on the floor, Taylor against the bed, him across from her. “It’s not the last time, Ed, just for a while.”

 

Her eyes are bit glassy with tears, despite them both promising to keep in touch often. He starts playing chords to Kiss Me, in an effort to make her smile.

_I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet_

She closes her eyes, listening to the music, letting his voice wash over her.

 

(She doesn’t see the way he’s looking at her as he continues singing.)

_Kiss me like you wanna be loved_

_This feels like falling in love_

 

He finishes the song, and her eyes finally open. He sees the familiar shade of blue, and thinks of the sea.

 

“Ed? You okay?”

 

Her voice brings him back. “Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

 

“Did you write anything new?” She asks, “I’m gonna miss being the first one to hear them.”

 

He tells himself that this is when he’s going to play for her. His fingers are all ready to start playing but his mind stops him.

_You’re supposed to be saying goodbye._

 

“Not really,” he says, “But when I’ve got something, you’ll definitely be the first to hear it.”

 

Her face lights up then, and she hugs him. The car comes, and his bags are packed, and then it’s finally time—it hasn’t hit them yet that the other wouldn’t be there, just a few rooms or miles away.

 

They hug tightly—not like one of the fleeting hugs after they finish singing.

 

She puts her all into it, her arms tight around him, her head tucked tightly into his shoulder. He can smell her citrus shampoo, and he tightens his hold on her, genuinely wondering if this was still platonic.

 

“Bye, Ed.” She whispers in his ear.

 

“See you, Tay,” he whispers back.

* * *

 

It’s been a month or so since the tour ended, and he’s had trouble adjusting. He wakes up at all hours, wondering if it’s time for soundcheck; writing songs to play for her on the floor of a hotel room, but settles for seeing her reaction over Skype; half expecting to see her sweater somewhere in his house.

 

He focuses on his upcoming shows at Madison Square, still kind of not realizing it sold out. It doesn’t hit him until he goes for soundcheck on the first day.

 

He calls her after, and when he hears her voice say hello, he launches into a panic.

 

“It’s happening. I’m playing Madison Square Garden.”

 

She laughs, “Duh, Ed. You told me.”

 

“No, I know, but ...” He trails off, not sure how to explain it.

 

He can practically see her smiling to herself when she tells him, “Relax, you’ve done this thousands of times, and it’s not that different. They’re all there for you, and they want to be there. Your dreams are slowly coming true and I’m so proud of you. I know you, and you’ll do amazing.”

 

He feels relieved hearing this come from her, “Thanks, Tay.”

 

“No problem, I figured you’d be freaking out right now.” She smiles, “You’ve done this before with me, remember? Now it’s just your turn to do it yourself.”

 

He nods while he’s on the phone, before realizing she can’t see him, but she knows anyway.

 

“Thanks for that, I needed it.”

 

“You’ll be great, I know it.” She says, ‘sorry, Ed, I gotta go, but I’ll call you after. Good luck!”

 

“Alright, thanks, bye.”

 

He misses her then, wishing she’d be in the crowd tonight, but knowing she wouldn’t.

 

... .

 

It’s about an hour into the show, and he’s having the time of his life. The fans are screaming back his lyrics, and he feels like he’s just run a marathon with all the adrenaline in him.

 

He goes backstage for a quick drink of water, and checks his phone - 1 new message.

 

_Hey, sorry this is late, and you’re probably off performing and having the time of your life already, but I want to say how excited I am for you, and I wish I could’ve been there to see it. I’m so proud of you! I love you, and I’ll talk to you after! --T_

 

She’s said Love you before, never I love you, and he feels like this is different, even if it’s over a text message. He goes back to the stage to play a new song, which he’s just thought to play.

 

He’s not sure why: maybe he just finally wanted to share it, maybe he just missed her but either way, this song was hers and he needed her there someway.

 

He explains the story behind it--the Grammys, the context, without giving too much out.

 

He hasn’t played it since he finished it, but his fingers seem to have been waiting to play it. The crowd becomes quiet, to hear his voice.

 

His eyes are closed the entire time, singing, just picturing the actual sea he’s talking about, and when the song ends, the crowd goes wild. He’s glad they like it, though he wishes the one person he’d wanted to hear it did.

 

...

 

The rest of the show is a blur yet he remembers every second of it. At the end, he’s covered in sweat, having given his all, and he flops down on the hotel bed, ready to sleep.

 

He manages to get himself up to shower and into some sweats before conking out on the couch.

 

It’s around 2am when he hears someone at the door, knocking. He opens the door, and is surprised to see the blonde in front of him, in PJs with no makeup.

 

“Hey,” she chuckles, “Did I wake you?”

 

“Kind of,” he jokes, “Come back in the morning.”

 

“I thought I’d tell you in person who’s your special guest tomorrow,” she smiles, “though I promise to look a whole better.”

 

Looking at her cat pajamas, he says, “Nah, you look fantastic.”

 

She walks into the room, sitting on the couch, and he takes a seat beside her. “How was the show?”

 

“Amazing,” he replies. “There’s no other word for it.”

 

“Told you,” she grins, “though I heard you played a new song. People loved it.”

 

He nods, not looking at her to mask the red in his cheeks, “So, you heard it already?”

 

She gets up and hands him his guitar. “No, I wanted to hear it like I should’ve.”

 

He sighs, sits on the floor, and she follows. He avoids eye contact during the song, until he gets to _lumiere_ when he hears her crying. He nearly stops to give her a hug, but she shakes her head to keep going.

 

_And in the morning, I knew you best_

 

By the end of the song, she’s glad she showed up with no makeup, because of all the tears. He sets the guitar down, unsure of what to do next.

 

She’s the one that hugs him tightly, and he hugs her back, happy but not satisfied. She pulls away while he gives her a soft smile, with just enough love and sadness in it.

 

And then, they’re kissing and it’s like it’s the most natural thing for them to be doing. It hits them then: the months of dancing around each other, of lingering looks and laughs, of unsaid and unsung words.

 

They pull away, and she laughs a full Taylor laugh when she sees his beet red, surprised face, “Just in case you didn’t know.”

 

He chuckles, and he’s the one who kisses her this time.

 

...

 

The morning comes, and he wakes up first. He wonders if last night was an extremely vivid dream, but she’s there, curled up next to him, resembling the cats on her pajamas.

 

The sun hits her, her blue eyes fluttering open. “Morning.”

 

He kisses her forehead. “Morning.”

 

“You missed,” she smiles, before kissing him and closing her eyes again. “Soundcheck’s a few hours away, and it was a pretty long flight.”

 

He ignores the grumble in his stomach, cuddles her in, and smiles at her, as she breathes to the rhythm of sleep.

 

She’s his light, and it’s only now that he sees it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may or may not be accurate in certain aspects, but this is fanfic (and fluff) so I'm sure you can suspend your disbelief for a bit. Thank you for reading, any kudos and comments would be lovely.


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